The Evil that is Magic
by Seedsiz
Summary: When his magic is finally exposed, Merlin isn't the only one to suffer. Reveal!fic with a twist. No slash, and some whump later on.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin, nor am I making money off this story.

Set before Uther's death.

The sun was making its way up the sky bringing with it the first real sunshine the citizens of Camelot had had in over two weeks now. The continuously grey sky and bleak mornings had dampened even the liveliest of spirits; wet wood meant breakfast was cold more often than not, and the biting wind had the farmers pulling their threadbare clothes closer around them, staring with envy at those whose livelihood kept them inside.

Still, with these rays of sunshine also came optimism, as the warmth from the sun hit faces, young and old alike, making children laugh as the fresh layer of snow made the ground sparkle as if gemstones had rained from the skies.

From prince Arthur's window the courtyard could be seen where people were slipping and sliding, going to and fro and even laughing when the odd man lost his footing and fell on the treacherous stones. Maybe the change in weather was destiny itself encouraging the young sorcerer to do what he'd wanted to for so many years, a promise that everything would be fine in the end...

Arthur looked down at his platter. His breakfast was cold again, but he didn't bother saying anything. Both master and servant knew that something was not quite right today as their usually playful banter had been strained and one-sided, eventually fading away. Now Merlin was working quietly in one corner of the room, biting his lips and glancing anxiously at Arthur whenever he wasn't looking.

Arthur didn't say anything as Merlin tripped over nothing for the second time that morning, but instead of brushing it off and going back to work like last time, Merlin just took a deep breath and gathered himself off the floor. He squared his shoulders and made his way over to Arthur, where he stood silently waiting for the prince to give him his full attention.

Arthur on the other hand had finally had enough. His nerves were already on edge and he looked up at Merlin about to scold him, but seeing the look on his manservant's face he held his tongue.

The silence stretched, getting more and more awkward and still Merlin just stood there, apparently having lost whatever courage he'd picked up moments before. Being the best hunter in all of Camelot Arthur knew he would win the waiting game, but this was Merlin and he really didn't have all day, even if Merlin was looking at him weirdly-

"What's wrong? You've been quiet ever since I saw you, and well, if there is something bothering you, you can tell me. You can trust me."

"...I want to trust you. That is, I do trust you, but this is my burden to bear and it wouldn't be right of me to put you in such a position," he said in a tired voice that suggested these words were often repeated in solitude and were meant more for himself than to reassure the other.

The silence settled again and this time it wasn't an awkward silence, but the silence a friend gave another friend to let them gather their thoughts. To let them decide if they wanted to take the plunge and confide in them. To strengthen the bond of friendship by telling them their secret, even if it would put them in a bad light, because they were friends and they would understand. And if they couldn't understand they could never hate, because that was what friends did, and Arthur be damned if he and Merlin weren't friends. He took a deep breath. He was ready for whatever would happen next. He would trust Merlin.

"I have magic."

This time the silence was deafening.

Merlin's expression was wary and guarded, not at all like how he usually was with every thought, every emotion written so clearly on his face and still… Arthur had known Merlin long enough to see that something was struggling to break free from the forced mask of calmness.

When nothing was said at all he cleared his throat nervously and repeated himself.

"I have magic, Merlin."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you so so much to everyone that read, favourited/followed or reviewed!**

Arthur was five when he had the first nightmare.

 _The snake had been a vivid red colour with glowing eyes that could barely be seen through the tall grass it was hiding in. A soft hiss escaped its mouth as the sound of hoof beats reached its ears. The snake coiled, ready to strike, when Lord Aylwin and his wife, the Lady Lorelle appeared on the edge of the forest. Lord Aylwin was laughing heartily at the latest adventure of their three-year old that his wife was recounting for him, when he rode past the snake. Lady Lorelle was riding right behind him and still smiling when she came within striking distance, and the snake struck quick as lightning; it's mouth opening impossibly wide – fangs bared – it enveloped her leg in its mouth and bit down so hard that blood sprayed and bones crunched._

 _The horse reared, panicking at the sight of the snake that had appeared out of nowhere. Its shrill whinnying made Lord Aylwin instantly turn his horse around just in time to see his beloved wife falling off her horse, and something red darting away through the grass. He jumped off his own horse without his usual grace and ran towards Lorelle almost before his feet had hit the ground. Upon reaching her, he glanced at her leg that had been nearly severed, and shaking his head in disbelief he fell to his knees and gently placed her head in his lap. He stroked her long black hair away from her face, stubbornly ignoring how the veins in her neck had already turned green._

 _Her lavender dress that had been ruined by blood, dirt, and grass, and Aylwin felt a hysteric laugh building up inside him as he took it all in. This was all wrong. So incredibly wrong. It was he who was the knight. He who had been in countless battles, he who had killed enough for his soul to never be clean again, he who should be dead and still… still it was not him, but it was his wife that was lying in front of him, dying the early death that he had always imagined would be his fate._

 _"Please don't leave me," he whispered._

 _She opened her eyes and tried to say something, but before even a word had left her lips she stiffened, her eyes glazing over as life left her._

 _As the vision faded a voice that sounded just like the snake had it been human, hissed, "Witness young Pendragon."  
_  
He woke up screaming, the words still ringing in his ears. His eyes darted around the dark room frantically, and it felt like his tiny heart was about to beat its way through his chest. He opened his mouth to scream again, when the door to the antechamber was flung open and his nurse ran in with a dagger in hand. At the same moment the two guards positioned outside his room also barrelled in, swords at the ready.

Tana seemed to understand what had happened first. "He had a nightmare," she told the guards briskly, "I will see to the young prince. You may take your leave."

Taking one last look in the room, the guards departed, shutting the door behind them.

During all this Arthur hadn't moved at all. He sat petrified on his bed, breath heaving, and watched as Tana came over to him. The dagger, he noted dimly, was gone.

She sat down close to him on the bed and without a word she reached out her arms and hugged him so hard he could feel how fast _her_ heart was beating. She put her chin on his head and started to rock him while she murmured, "Hush my child. It was a dream, nothing more. It cannot hurt you, you are safe now."

Arthur wrapped his arms around her thin frame, shaking from the sheer terror the nightmare had induced. He pressed his nose into her rough clothes, taking in the familiar smell of her and finally letting the tears fall. He wept in the arms of the woman that had done everything for him, and loved him unconditionally. The woman that wasn't his mother.

He remembered how furious his father had been when Arthur had called her 'mother' in front of the court. The young prince had gotten it thoroughly explained to him later.

 _"She is a nurse that is doing her job. She gets paid to take care of you because you are the prince, but she is not, nor will she ever be your mother. Your mother was a woman of noble blood and I will not have you insult her memory by calling that servant your mother. Is that understood?"_

 _Even when he was so little, Arthur had only ever wanted to please his father. "Yes."_

 _Uther kept looking at him. "Yes…"_

 _"Yes, father."_

 _Some of the sternness left his face. "Good." He patted Arthur on the shoulder once and turned away to more serious matters.  
_  
Arthur had never made that mistake again, but how could he not when she was holding him just like a mother did her own children? When she sat there stroking his hair and never once complained even as the sky outside turned from inky black to the dull grey of early morning? How could he help it when even after all these hours of comforting him, when he looked upon her face it held nothing but love and compassion for him?

That was when Arthur whispered it to her. "I love you mother."

And her smile had been brilliant, tears shining in her eyes as she kissed his forehead. "And I you, my son."

The nightmare forgotten, he finally fell asleep, safe in his mother's embrace.

Even the following morning Arthur's happiness hadn't faded, but he tried to keep his features calm as he dined with his father. It was the only time Uther sat aside solely for his son and so Arthur both looked forward to and dreaded the time when he had his father's complete attention. His father was a mighty figure and being the only one in a room with him – not counting the servants – was always demanding.

"How fare your lessons?"

"I managed to conjugate all the Latin verbs and Geoffrey said that my reading and penmanship is improving at a steady rate, father." What he didn't mention was how he'd seen other children his age playing outside while he'd been studying. Arthur might've been young but he understood that he was the prince, and as such more was expected of him.

His father nodded, pleased with the answer. "And did you enjoy your first riding lesson?"

Arthur sat a little straighter at that and immediately had to suppress a yelp. He had been eager to finally be allowed to ride a horse, but no one had told him how uncomfortable the unfamiliar motion of the horse would be, or how sore he'd get afterwards. He opened his mouth to answer when a knock at the door interrupted him.

Uther was proud of his son, there was no denying that. He only wished that he could tell Arthur that, but even as it broke his heart, he knew he had to distance himself to make Arthur stronger. He observed his son and had to suppress a smile at the way the boy was shifting in his chair, obviously sore. He remembered how he himself had been wincing and complaining after his first riding session, but Arthur kept his composure, and seeing how strong-willed and determined his son had already become at such a tender age, Uther felt his light mood evaporating.

Blasted magic. It had taken Ygraine from them and the kingdom had suffered greatly ever since. She had been a woman of noble birth of course, but she had also been fair and just, which had made her a worthy queen. And he had loved her.

Even now thinking about her in the past tense hurt, and he wondered if he would ever heal, or if the hurt her passing had caused would stay with him forever, reminding him of his mistake. With Ygraine's death and Arthur as his only son and heir it had forced too many responsibilities on his son's too small shoulders.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

"Sire, Lord Aylwin is asking to see you. He says it's urgent," one of the guards said.

"Send him in at once. You, nurse, take Arthur back to his chambers. The rest of you, leave."

Lord Aylwin strode in just as Arthur was leaving with the servants, and he noticed how Arthur flinched at the lord's appearance. Uther frowned as his second-in-command came closer and he could finally see the blood and dirt that stained his clothes. It must be truly important if Aylwin had had to engage in battle himself and then hadn't even cleaned himself before coming to deliver his message. Uther mentally prepared himself for the important news when he noticed the expression on his friends face.

They had known each other before Uther had become king and he had watched as his friend had hardened through the years, every battle stripping more of the man away, hardening him. They had often been in battle together so his appearance wasn't that alarming a sight to Uther. No, what worried him the most was that he had never seen his friend look like this before. He looked like Uther had looked after the death of… Oh.

"Lorelle?" he asked, even though he didn't want to hear the answer.

Aylwin looked away, his rigid posture softening as he finally let the grief show. Uther stood frozen for a heartbeat unsure of what to do, but then he stepped forward and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

And Aylwin shook it off.

"No more," he whispered brokenly. "I'm done killing for you, my liege." His voice gaining strength he turned back towards Uther. "I was with you when no one else believed in you. I never once questioned you because I never had to. I believed in what you did, for it was all just, but it is no more. Where is the man that understood the power of showing mercy? The man that understood that sometimes yielding was a sign of who was the stronger, the better man? You have changed, Uther and still I have always been at your side, because I understood why you did it."

For once in his life Uther had nothing to say at all. He was standing there in his royal attire and looking nothing like a king, only the shell of the broken man that was left. "It grieves me that you never told me how you felt, old friend."

"I never should have had to say it!" Aylwin shouted, finally losing his cool. "This war against magic isn't benefiting anyone can't you see that? You are tearing families apart, Uther and it is in turn tearing ours." He stepped closer, "Tell me, my Lord, has all this killing brought her back?"

He continued, more subdued now, "You have become cruel, Uther, the very embodiment of what you seek to destroy, and I will not let it destroy me and mine."

"I am your king and you have no right to speak to me like that!" the king bellowed, any sign of sorrow gone from his face. "You speak treason, Aylwin and I will forgive you just this once, because I understand that you're not thinking clearly at the moment. Do not expect to be forgiven a second time."

"I will never need to ask your forgiveness again, Sire, because I'm taking my son with me and leaving this kingdom after Lorelle's-" his breath hitched, "-burial." He observed the man in front of him that was so full of hate that he couldn't see what he'd become. "I finally understand your sorrow, Uther. But I no longer understand you."

Uther watched as his oldest and most loyal friend turned around and left him. Because of magic. He closed his eyes as his heart hardened, never to soften again.

The next day, Uther executed the first child.


	3. Chapter 2

The door slammed shut behind Merlin with a force he'd been surprised by had he been thinking clearly enough to notice. Several members of the court - servants and knights alike - offered him nods or friendly greetings but were left confused in his wake as Merlin acknowledged no one.

It lasted only until he'd cleared the citadel walls and then the control shattered. Merlin kicked the wall and he could tell he'd broken something in his foot. Of course he could tell, he was the physician's apprentice. Village boy, the prince's manservant, a secret sorcerer living right under Uther's nose only- Only he wasn't the only one. Arthur was one too, he had magic _too_. It didn't occur to Merlin to doubt it because what reason would Arthur have to lie about something like this? The king had been been prosecuting innocent people - he'd executed children! And all the while his own son had had magic and Uther had kept it a secret.

There was nothing to make up for the sheer unfairness of the situation, of how _wrong_ it was, (how hurt and betrayed he felt because Arthur had kept this from him and let him live in fear for his life), how nobles really were as big hypocrites as Gwaine had said. And Gwaine had been right, and Merlin had been wrong, and Arthur was a liar, Uther was a liar, Merlin, Morgana, Gaius - they were all liars.

Something very precious in Merlin's world broke and shattered all at once, the golden light in which he always saw Arthur faded away and he realized that he was left with nothing at all.

The pressure mounted to such a point that it became unbearable and Merlin kicked the wall again, howling at the pain that followed. Tears streamed down his face but for once Merlin didn't bother hiding his pain. There was no one around anyway. Or so he thought until a big hand landed on his shoulder and gently steered him the other way.

Merlin resisted weakly only until he recognized the glass smith, Bruin, a burly man with a gentle disposition who took Merlin to his own cottage and sat him down on the kitchen bench. Bruin went over to the where there was a pot simmering and that's when Merlin closed his eyes, feeling too raw and tired to face the world. The next thing he knew there was a bowl of hot stew that smelled different from Gaius' (but still familiar,) being placed in front of him. Merlin managed to get out a "thank you" that he assumed Bruin caught because the deaf smith smiled to him even if worry was evident on his face.

" _Gaius_?" he scribbled on a piece of paper and Merlin shook his head quickly, not knowing why he was saying no, but he didn't want anyone to see him like this.

" _Your foot,_ " Bruin persisted. " _You're hurt_."

Merlin was expecting Bruin to object again when he shook his head, but he'd underestimated the silent man and how keenly he was watching him for Bruin nodded, and there was a kind of understanding in his eyes that had Merlin looking away.

He tapped the edge of the bowl and Merlin put the spoon in his mouth on instinct more than anything. At least that made Bruin smile a little. He rested his hand on the paper where he'd written another message. " _Stay here tonight_. _Safe_."

The last word made Merlin's heart throb painfully and he finished his meal in silence. When he tried to stand up Bruin was there again, helping him to the bed. Merlin's head was spinning, or maybe that was just the world around him, but he was grateful for when he could lie down. Even with the pain in his foot he managed to fall asleep.

* * *

"For God's sake someone get him a piece of paper and something to write on!"

One of the stupider guards rushed out the door and Arthur huffed and grabbed writing utensils from his own desk that he gave to Bruin who was cradling something in his palm as careful as if he held a newborn kitten. The red neckerchief in those big hands looked wrong, there was only one place that piece of scratchy cloth belonged and it was not currently there.

For all his worry and careful handling, the smith was not one to waste time. He made use of Arthur's desk with only a fleeting glance to make sure it was alright and started to write.

It had taken Bruin time to get to the prince's chambers but Arthur hadn't dawdled after seeing the neckerchief and realizing what it meant. There had been no sign of Merlin after his revelation two days ago and the mounting feeling of something going terribly wrong had finally culminated to _this_. His dreams had not warned him.

Nothing of what he felt inside escaped to his features. He hadn't survived this long with his secret by letting people read his emotions so easily. Arthur bent over the paper to the messy scrawl. The message was short:

 _Merlin hurt. Told him to stay. Gone when I came back. Found this on floor._

As Arthur lifted his eyes from the short message (where had Merlin gone? Had he left Arthur? _I'm not evil, Merlin I promise_!) Bruin was holding the neckerchief out to him. Arthur barely kept himself from reacting when his fingers came in contact with the cloth and he felt a jolt of... Magic. There was no mistaking it; a faint shimmer of gold was suddenly visible in the air, leading away from the city.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Arthur began to ready himself to ride, and to ride fast. He had a chance to get Merlin back and he wasn't going to give up on him.

When he was set to go, Bruin was still standing there.

Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat and found one of the smaller bags of coins he kept around.

Bruin stopped him with one hand on his wrist. He pointed at himself, Arthur, and then out the window.

"You want to come with me?" Arthur asked, surprised. Only until he remembered who this was about. Of course Merlin would have made friends with the smith on his errands to the man. The confident nod was all he needed and Arthur smiled a little.

"Let's go then." He marched swiftly with Bruin right on his heels - who moved surprisingly quiet for a man of his size - and tossed one of the stable boys a coin. "Two horses, the fastest you have."

The boy scurried off like a pack of hounds were after him, they might as well with how urgently the prince had made his demand.

Another stableboy was stopped as he passed them by. "Tell the king I've received reports of the bandits' lair and am riding out to see if it's true. He will know what I mean."

It was a surprisingly good lie for one made up on the spot. They'd been getting reports for months now of a small group of bandits that moved efficiently, ruthlessly, taking what they wanted and killing all those that stood up to them. The frequency of the attacks had Arthur thinking there wasn't just one group, but the style was the same, as was the aftermath and his father had dismissed the theory. Arthur wished his claim had been taken more seriously. He had been there, it hadn't felt _right_ to blame just one group. But that had been a knight's report, and the prince had bowed his head when faced with the wisdom of the king.

The horses were brought out for them and Arthur mounted his quickly and set for the gates closest to the lower city. It was where the magic trail was leading, but if Bruin asked Arthur could just claim that it made more sense for Merlin to go this way since he'd been in the area last. But Bruin didn't ask and Arthur realized how much easier this would make things for him.

They found the tracks eventually down the road where there wasn't as much traffic. A lone man on horse.

"You said," Arthur began, "that Merlin was hurt. What happened to him?"

Bruin made a motion like snapping a twig and then pointed to his right foot.

"He broke his foot?" Arthur asked. "How did he- never mind, I can think of a number of reasons."

Why had Merlin seen fit to leave with an injury like that? Was he really that disgusted with him?

 _He should be,_ whispered a treacherous voice. _You've been lying to him all this time, you_ are _the evil that you help your father hunt. Not even loyal to_ them _, how could you be loyal to Camelot? Don't you think the king would be disgusted if he found out? Guinevere? Her father was killed just for associating a sorcerer. You've marked her for death. Just like your mother. You kill everything you love. You are an abomination, Arthur Pendragon._

Nothing broke his gloomy thought process and Arthur realized then that Merlin had always coincidentally tripped whenever Arthur was in deep thought, or insulted him when he was brooding. How had he never noticed before? Arthur had insulted him for tripping over thin air several times and he'd never noticed. Closing his hand tighter around the neckerchief Arthur vowed to bring back Merlin. He belonged in Camelot now and Arthur wasn't going to take that away from him. Gaius and Guinevere deserved better. They all deserved so much better than he could give them.

* * *

 _Hunith pressed a cloth to Merlin's forehead. Her little boy was writhing in bed, lost in one of his nightmares again and nothing she did ever helped but it made her feel better if she could do_ something, _so she sat there and patiently wiped his brow as she murmured to him that everything was going to be fine._

 _Once she'd managed to wake him and nothing could ever make her forget Merlin's screams as his eyes glowed pure gold. She'd had to turn down all the neighbours that came to check if they were alright._

 _Merlin himself only remembered being in pain and feeling trapped. When she had asked about the other nightmares he'd just looked at her quizzically._

 _Hunith sighed and wet the cloth again when the mumbling began. Always the same thing whispered over and over again with increasing urgency:_

 _"Leave him alone! Leave Arthur alone!"_


End file.
